


Should Have Worshipped Her Sooner

by simplyprologue



Category: The Newsroom (US TV)
Genre: Aka Will and Mac Have Sex While Wasted, F/M, Marijuana, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Season/Series 02
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-03
Updated: 2015-06-03
Packaged: 2018-04-02 16:07:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4066195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/simplyprologue/pseuds/simplyprologue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Mac, honey, you should feel free to objectify me anytime you want.</i> If MacKenzie wants to relegate Will to the position of her personal sex toy, he has no complaints.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Should Have Worshipped Her Sooner

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ehc6j](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ehc6j/gifts).



> **A/N:** Yeah so this is... unabashedly dirty. I got Emily drunk (no I didn't... sort of) and made sure she was okay with this idea, before writing this for her for her birthday. Which was yesterday. But I started writing it yesterday, which is sort of what counts. Intentions, and stuff. Emily, you're a mom. It's the thought that counts, right? And these were dirty, dirty thoughts. So happy birthday to Emily, who is amazing and fab and puts up with me and stuff. 
> 
> And thanks to Pippa for being Australian and awake when I finished this at 4 AM EST. All mistakes left are my own. And the title is obviously a line from "Take Me To Church," by Hozier, because it's 4:30 AM and really what else could I do? Takes place a few weeks after "Election Night."

It was a joke – as much of a joke as it could be with both of them high and drunk, after Mac displayed her domestic skills insofar as they were met by what she picked up living with NYU graduate students when she first moved to New York after Cambridge. That is, she baked them hash brownies and decided to chase her own down with a pull from his bottle of Johnnie Walker blue label, and he was inclined to follow her example. And then because weed makes her giggly and whisky makes her handsy, he wound up following her into bed too, his fingers clumsily plucking apart the halves of her bra.

It was a joke, said withher lips on his neck and her hands working on his belt, and it first starting with her teasing him about whisky dick and whether or not he’s ever had a problem with it (no, _thank you,_ and MacKenzie very well knows it) which somehow turned into a remark on how much she had missed this part of his anatomy the past six years – a remark Will honestly couldn’t really parse as either a joke or a serious statement.

So he thought it was a joke, until her hand wrapped at the base of his cock and squeezed, followed by her hand twisting up and around until it came to his head, and squeezing him even more tightly.

Now it’s definitely not a joke. 

“I missed your cock, Billy,” she laughs breathlessly into his ear. “It’s never let me down.”

There are implications here, from her statement: there are cocks that _have_ let her down, the men attached to those cocks were probably equally disappointing, he is in at least one way superior to these men. Or at least that’s his interpretation of her statement; he could probably find a way to turn it around on her but they’re no longer doing that, and Will knows better than to be snarky with Mac (or any woman, really, as a general rule not that his social stupidity knows any tangible bounds) when she has her hands on his penis.

“Good to hear,” he stutters in reply, trying to kick his jeans off his legs without doing something reprehensible, like moving out of her grasp.

“I’m serious, Will,” she says, despite the fact that she continues smiling, giggling. “One hundred percent, completely, dead serious.”

And one hundred percent, completely, dead wasted.

But so is he, so _fuck it._

“You’re not so bad yourself, hon,” he barely manages to get out when her mouth replaces where her hands were a few moments before, all lips and tongue and soft, suctioned wetness. “I definitely missed – _shit_ – I especially missed your particular adeptness as – _oh fuck_ – this.”

She looks up at him with wide hazel eyes, glassy and red-rimmed but smiling somehow, before hollowing out her cheeks as she sucks harder on his erection – his hips torque up off the mattress, and he curses, and she releases him with a _pop_ and grasps him in her hand again. Jerks him off, slowly, without intent. Blinking rapidly, and trying desperately to not lose his sensibility, he looks at her reddened, saliva-wet lips as she pulls herself up his body.

Will thinks he might lose his mind soon, so unfettered as it already is by their impromptu batch of weed brownies and little more alcohol than was probably intelligent.

“You’re missing my point.”

“I don’t think I have two working brain cells to rub together right now, so I’m sure that’s a possibility.”

He pulls her atop him, suddenly preoccupied with her mouth again and leaning up to kiss her. And then he forgets for a long moment, that they were talking about something, when she slides her tongue along his and slides her fingers into his hair. It’s a very long moment later when she finally pulls their mouths apart, nipping at his lower lip one last time.

“So what’s your point?” Will asks, remembering somewhat that she had something more or less inane to contend. Not that he’s in too much of a hurry, his thoughts and limbs languid and drugged. “Mac?”

Looking up at him, she snorts, and then crumbles down onto his chest with peals of laughter. “I don’t remember, I’m too busy objectifying you.”

“Oh.”

“Do you mind?” she asks, arching a single sardonic brow.

He fans out his hands so that his fingers span over her lower back, and then presses down, grinding his erection into her hip. Like a reminder, possibly. A reminder that if she just moved up half a foot, he could slip inside her. “Being objectified?”

“Yeah.”

Biting her lip, she reaches up to do… something to his hair. Neaten it, or mess it up. Will isn’t entirely certain what her tastes are at the moment. Her own dark locks are mess in and of themselves, for which he’ll gladly take credit.

“Mac, honey, you should feel free to objectify me anytime you want.”

Smiling mischievously at him (in a way that’s almost magnetic, or some other sort of physical pull, but she has him smiling too) she hums in a distinctly satisfied manner.

“Good, because I’d have to check the tapes but I think that was in your proposal too,” she teases, riding her hips back down against his. “Fine print.”

“I’m a lawyer, you’d think I would remember to read it.” He curls his fingers into the sides of her waist, trying negotiate her wet folds into coming into contact with his dick. But a wasted Mac is an easily distracted one, so she’s not paying any attention to what his hands are trying to do. “How exactly do you wanna objectify me?”

Giggling again, she answers, “Your cock,” placing emphasis on the hard syllables in her response.

“You really like saying that, don’t you?” he asks.

Shrugging, she sits up, spreading her legs as to straddle him. “I spent twenty-six months with Marines. I like saying a lot of things now. Cock, tits, pussy—”

“All good words.”

He could stand to hear her say them more, especially like this in bed, with her on top of him.

“I had a vibrator,” she continues ponderously. “Several, in fact, all of which you found when you decided to snoop through my nightstand when you stayed over last weekend—”

“I wasn’t snooping, I was looking for a tissue, which was _your_ fault,” he points out.

Because she could so easily procure hand lotion from her nightstand, it’s not like a tissue was an unreasonable thing for him to think was also inside the drawer. And not that he is in anyway _complaining_ about a hand job given with the left hand as Mac worked to finish her notes on a segment for the next day with the right… after he insinuated that her multitasking skills were below par.

“Because I like your cock,” she counters, with a hint of smugness. “Which brings me back to my vibrators, those which really cannot stand up to your cock. In most ways. I mean, until you learn to vibrate, which sadly does not seem likely to happen.”

“I will concede _that_ point.” Not that he’s really all that jealous of an inanimate object, especially one that he can utilize to his own advantage, even though they both forgot to bring any of them to his apartment this weekend. “I did enjoy your demonstration on how to use—”

Mac shushes him with the wave of a hand. “But you are otherwise very much… I missed you. Certain aspects of you.”

His own eyebrows are raised at this one. “Certain aspects?”

He punctuates his question by reaching for some of his favorite _aspects_ of Mac, cupping her breasts in his hands, gently squeezing them, rolling her nipples between his fingers. A flush crawls across her chest, coloring her skin pink up to her neck and cheeks.

Tweaking her nipples harder, he doesn’t let go until she whines.

“Definitely not the neurotic standards to which you keep your medicine cabinet and the obsession with late-night infomercials.” The words slide like liquid off her tongue, and then she bites her lip.

“To my credit, I’ve mostly been asleep during those the past few weeks.”

“You’re welcome,” she mutters, closing her eyes. And then snaps back to attention, shaking her head. “Not the point.”

“What was your point again?” Will asks, because he’s forgotten again as well.

Mac’s answer is clear and concise – she lifts herself up onto her knees, palms his erection into place against her opening, and sinks down onto him.

“Oh god,” he grunts, scrabbling for purchase on her waist.

She’s wet, hot, and tight and all around him and the weed has him feeling like everything is happening like it’s being processed through some other lens first, one that’s blurred and gold-tinted and slowed. He could last for hours, he thinks, in this perfect moment. With Mac wet, hot, and tight and pushed up against him.

“Girth is a good word, you know? I feel so stretched, which is… oh you feel good.” Sighing, she tilts her head to the side and wiggles her hips. Then, more contemplatively, “Maybe you should just lie back and just watch, Will, and let me…”

Breathing hard, he nods.

He has no complaints about anything Mac wants to do to him, none at all.

“Just worry about yourself, Mac,” he tells her, eyes raking over her body. “Watching is good. Watching is just fine.”

Pushing herself up a little bit higher on her knees, she tests out a few strokes at that have him biting back a groan.

“Objectification?” she asks mindlessly.

“Sure.” If MacKenzie wants to relegate him to the position of personal sex toy, he has no objections. “Not like I’m not getting anything out of this. Just uh… keep talking.”

“About your perfect cock?” She smirks, and then doesn’t, forming her lips into a different sort of grin. Contented, but also not at all. “God, I feel so full. I can just barely take all of it, and I just wanna keep… oh fuck. You’re the perfect length, you know?”

He really doesn’t, but all his mind can produce in response is an endless litany of _oh fuck_. With a high little moan, Mac rotates her hips forward, planting her hands on his chest. Moves up and down on his erection, up and rolls her hips down, bites her lip.

The urge to thrust up against her has his legs twitching, but he keeps his legs flat against the sheets and laces his hands together behind his head. _Just watch,_ she said, and god if he isn’t good at taking direction from her even if it has every muscle in his body tensing and releasing with pleasure, just out of reach.

It’s probably good that he’s wasted for this, because he wouldn’t miss it for the fucking world.

“And if I lean forward I can rub my clit against you and shit, this is a good angle, I’m just gonna keep… you feel so good like this,” she says, exhaling raggedly.

Her eyes meet his, and he fights the instinct to reach up and hold her hair away from her face so he can watch her pupils dilate – her eyes meet his, and then she sits up, leaning back to brace herself against his thighs. “And I – oh fuck, when I do this the head of your cock hits my g-spot and _fuck, fuck, fuck,_ ” she cries, accentuating each thrust of her hips with an expletive, “it feels fantastic.” Licking her lips, she removes one hand from his thighs to rub fast circles over her clit. “Holy shit, I could come like this.”

To save himself from pulling out his hair, Will moves his hands from behind his hand to clench into the sheets. Her body is an arced plane, and she just rides him harder and faster and he is really, really trying to not disappoint her. Or, well. Trying so that his cock doesn’t disappoint her. “You should. You should come.”

“I am, Will,” she answers, voice high and tight in the way it gets before she’s hit with an orgasm. “I’m gonna come.”

He tries to come up with a response, but all he has is misfiring synapses and a vision field full of Mac’s bouncing tits.

“Oh god, I’m gonna come around your cock. Whenever you fuck me like this I come so quickly,” she says, and he doesn’t have the brainpower to tell her that this time she’s the one doing the fucking but he gets the sentiment. “I feel it all through my body and I feel so tight, my tits are heavy and I’m so wet, I feel like my pussy is dripping on you.” Lurching forward, she palms her breasts with one hand, still digging the fingers on the other into her wetness. “Oh fuck. Will.” Her eyes flutter shut, and she heaves herself up and down his cock with a stuttered slowness. “Oh, I’m gonna come.”

“That’s it, MacKenzie. Harder, come on.” He could grab her hips, pull her down harder or thrust up into her but he wants her to do this, keep using him like this. “I know you wanna go harder. You always do.”

Throwing her head back, she lets out a rough cry and any worry about coming before her escapes his mind; he forgets he’s capable of doing anything but watching.

Lifts herself up once, twice, three times, four – and pushes herself down against him gracelessly. Her breasts are imprinted with her handprint, nipples pert and pink and on stroke five she shudders, the fingers on her clit hitting a terminal speed and then letting off. Moaning unintelligibly she collapses down to rest her head on his shoulder.

Which is when he allows himself to touch her, gently skirting his hands up and down her back as her climax ripples through her, around him.  Her thighs push in against his sides and he puts his hands on those two, feels them twitching with every pass.

MacKenzie’s breathing is harsh in his ear, inhales and exhales marked by half-desperate whimpers.

 _Holy shit,_ he thinks.

And then she pushes herself back up, framing his face with her elbows.

“Your turn,” she pants, and when he goes to roll them over, pushes him back against the mattress. “Oh no.”

_Holy shit._

Grinning down at him, she starts moving her hips again. A roll, and then something more considerable, until she’s back to her pace before except now that she’s not focusing on herself anymore, except now she’s gripping him with her pussy on every downward pass and he feels like he’s going to lose consciousness very soon unless he has an orgasm.

“Oh… fuck, honey.” His hands continue moving up and down her back, his fingers tripping over the notches in her spine. “God, I love you. Have I told you that recently?”

“Not in the past hour.”

Sighing, she pushes her hair to the side and over one shoulder.

“I love you,” he groans. “I really, really do.”

“You have no idea how to just shut up and orgasm, do you?” she asks.

“Ergh.” He groans, pulling her more tightly up and against him. If he was thinking more clearly he might have made a joke about low-hanging fruit, but instead just buries his head between her breasts where they’re moving near his face. “Trying.”

“Faster?”

Without waiting for his response, she starts moving in what could be called a terminal velocity.

“Yeah just – holy shitting Jesus, Mac.” Tensing, he scratches his short nails up her back, curls his fingers into her sides, and holds her against him. “Fuck, Mac!”

At the exact moment the pressure under his skin becomes unbearable it releases, and he feels himself planting his feet and jerking his hips up into her, coming inside her. And then it’s a rapid descent down, and Will wraps himself around Mac more tightly, trying to burrow himself into her shivering skin.

A little less drunk than before, she laughs.

“Was that good for you?” She presses a kiss to his sweaty temple.

Trying to force his lungs to work, he nods, hoping that she understands that in time she will receive the sonnets and odes for what she has just performed as is her due. “Uhuh.”

Still laughing, she rolls them onto their sides, and he slides out of her.

Ostensibly she has to get up to use the bathroom or something, but he holds onto her for as long as she lets him, licking the salt from her skin if only because she’s incredibly ticklish and it makes her squirm.

 “Do you want me to get you another brownie?”

She kisses his cheek, this time, rolling out of bed.

“I love you,” he calls plaintively, even if the sight of her naked ass as she skirts out of his bedroom is enough to assuage any brief and slightly ludicrous sadness he might feel at their temporary separation. And then, “Just bring the whole pan.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
